Standing Together

Chapter 77

Castiel lies in bed with Dean for a long time after he wakes up the next morning. His mind keeps replaying the events of the previous night on repeat. He had a goddamn panic attack in the middle of one of the biggest annual award shows. The event was even on national television, for god's sake.

What if his panic attack was on national television? It's not uncommon for them to show the audience during performances. What if everyone saw him running out of the room? And the paparazzi obviously got pictures of him outside, so those are going to make their rounds online, too.

There's no way to play this off, is there? He can't hide it. At this point, everyone has to know about his little freak out. It's probably being used against him by some random person online right now. And people still use moments from five-plus years ago against him, so they're never going to let him live this down.

This is the end, isn't it? He can't go to another awards show, he can't go to any concerts, and he certainly can't go on tour with all the big noises. He can't do anything where the spotlight is solely on him in case he has another panic attack. He can't do anything anymore.

So this is it. He's done now. He went out with a bang — both literally and figuratively.

"Cas?"

Castiel looks over to see that Dean's awake, looking sort of concerned. He sits up and gently pulls Castiel into a side hug with one arm, using the other hand to wipe a tear from his cheek. He didn't even realize he was crying.

"Hey, Cas, what's wrong?" Dean asks softly. "Another nightmare?"

Castiel just shakes his head.

"Are you okay?" Dean asks.

Castiel shakes his head again.

"Oh, Cas," Dean murmurs, wrapping both arms around him. "Talk to me. What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Nothing," Castiel mumbles.

"I know that's not true," Dean says quietly. "Is it about last night?"

Castiel hesitates, not sure he wants to admit it, then nods.

"You know people aren't going to be upset, right?" Dean says. "They're going to feel bad for you. I know you're used to everything you do being divisive, but even people who don't really like you are going to sympathize with you on this."

"But they're not," Castiel says. "That's not how the internet works. It's not how being famous works." He sighs softly. "We never should have come here. This is going to follow me around for years."

"It's not," Dean insists. "I'll prove it, okay? Let me go check Twitter. I'm sure I'll find lots of love on there."

"If you're so sure, let me look, too," Castiel says.

"Cas —"

"Dean, I just have to know where I stand right now," Castiel says. "Just let me see what people are saying. Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just getting all worked up over nothing."

Dean hesitates, then says a reluctant, "Okay, hang on."

He reaches over to grab his phone from the bedside table. As he shields the phone from view to type his password, Castiel leans against him, resting his head on the boy's shoulder. Dean opens the Twitter app and searches up Castiel's first name.

The first things that show up are a Twitter moments about the Grammys, a Twitter moments about Castiel at the Grammys specifically, and a couple different articles.

"See, it's already a big thing," Castiel says.

"They do that type of thing for everything," Dean says reassuringly. "But it's going to be all positive, okay?"